


Echoes

by GGH



Category: Stargate Atlantis RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-24 15:51:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16178270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GGH/pseuds/GGH
Summary: It's a long, slow fall





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No, seriously, I've been in the fandom since the start and it's only this morning that I woke up with the urge to write some Hewligan. the heck????
> 
> Not gonna lie, I'm just writing cos I wanna write Hewligan. Fuck knows where this going

 

 

 

 

David can’t believe how...shy... Joe is. There are times when he feels like some uncouth American to Joe’s well mannered and unassuming Canadian.

Pretty fucking ironic (he knows _Joe_ would appreciate the irony).

He thinks Joe’s getting better at the standing in front of fans and being funny and charming – himself in other words – thing but it doesn’t come as easily as it should.

And it gives him a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach to see him struggling underneath it all.

He always rescues him; doesn’t know why he’s the only one who seems so attuned to Joe’s moods he can tell when the wheels are about to come off, but he’s always paying attention to Joe even when no-one else can tell.

Joe can tell.

Joe knows.

And though Joe never thanks him overtly, he thanks him in so many other ways.

 

**

He’d liked him from day one, a little wary at first, aware that Joe was the duck out of water, the new kid on their block, almost expecting him to act out – in some way – just to make himself feel more comfortable, but he hadn’t known Joe then, had he?

Joe’s one of the most self-contained people he’s ever met, easily giving John Sheppard a run for his money.

Oh a little more polished and assured than Sheppard, but he wouldn’t have been so comfortable creating Sheppard if he hadn’t _recognised_ him.

He knows from Joe that adding more layers to Sheppard is a thing- well, as far as Joe’s concerned the layers are already there he just wants them to be more apparent to the audience.

David wishes him luck.

He already knows the deal: John Sheppard might be the lead character, but he’s not the one the writers’ room want to write for, not their favourite by any means.

He appreciates, he really does, playing the favoured character, the one they are always going to make ascendant, find the best storylines for.

He just doesn’t want it to be at the expense of the other characters, the other actors – Joe.

David makes a point of getting along with his co-stars, aware that he has a reputation in the business of being easy to work with, but a bit of a kiss ass.

Won’t deny it – if it makes life easier to stay on the producers/writers right side why wouldn’t he?

Joe doesn’t share that philosophy.

Now, David wouldn’t like to say that the evidence of Joe’s privileged background is apparent in his attitude, but...

It always makes him feel a little uncomfortable when Joe goes after the producers/writers, demanding (in his own charming, low key way) to get better storylines or even simply _lines_ for his character, because he knows, as Joe doesn’t seem to, that it will, at some point, tell against him.

No, he doesn’t think Joe will get a reputation for being difficult, but he’s fairly sure he’ll get punished (in the way only writers can) at some distant point in the future.

He fully expects John Sheppard to be bitten by bugs, near culled by Wraith, shot, stabbed, drowned and beaten to a pulp at various points in upcoming seasons – all without any of it adding to the layers Joe (and David) is so desperate to see.

For his part he’s hopeful that their love for McKay won’t force _him_ into storylines he objects to, creative choices he’d rather not make.

He doesn’t make a fuss - that’s well known - and well, maybe he ought to learn from Joe _how_ to if need be.

Still, maybe he first needs to borrow some of Joe’s fortune so that the prospect, the _fact,_ of stable, long term income won’t affect his ability to _make_ a fuss...

 

**

 

Yeah, he can see Joe more easily as a father than a husband.

Joe thrives on the fatherhood thing, really thrives.

The husband thing? Not so much.

It’s none of David’s business and he honestly doesn’t know _why_ the fuck he’s so attuned to the guy, but that he’s not happily married was clear, if not right from the start then pretty damn close.

They don’t really talk about their partners – not because David doesn’t want to, but because he knows fuck well Joe would rather not.

It’s natural to hang out together – all of them, as a foursome, but that had been awkward as fuck the few times they’d tried it, Jane remarking afterwards that Joe’s wife didn’t seem incredibly friendly. And she hadn’t been, but David had got the impression that it wasn’t really _personal_ , just aimed at, against Joe.

He and Jane could have been any of Joe’s friends/colleagues; she’d have disdained them all the same.

He doesn’t say a word to Joe, but no longer suggests hanging out that way.

He’s happier when it’s just him and Joe - and the others - anyway.

It’s not that he _wants_ to keep his friendship with Joe strictly professional – they’ve crossed that bridge already – it’s just that he wants Joe to be _comfortable_ and he’s already discovered that Joe has edges – jagged, unexpected – that do better in the mild friendliness of co-workers getting together than deeper, private friendships.

**

 

He thinks too damn much – that’s no news; it’s just a bit of a pain in the ass at times.

Like now, for instance, now when he has to work out what the fuck Joe’s playing at.

Joe also thinks too much, and (luckily) generally shares the results of these ruminations with David.

They are more often than not on the same wavelength in their interpretation of characters, character motivations etc etc.

Except...

David just isn’t _sure_ about John Sheppard; he is such a blank canvas it’s very much up to Joe to fill in the necessary gaps, and well, Joe is currently confusing the fuck out of him.

Is Joe actually playing Sheppard as gay and crushing on McKay or has he totally lost the fucking plot?


	2. Chapter 2

At first he’d been pretty impressed by the scripts they were given, the concepts, the character treatments. Considering where Rodney McKay had started from he felt he had every right to be happy with the meat they were now regularly, happily feeding him.

David had always needed to be sure he was part of a well-oiled machine, each part in its rightful place, doing exactly what it was designed to do – make the machine perform to its optimal best. A big part of this was understanding where each actor was coming from, understanding how they saw their individual characters and, almost more importantly, from his point of view, how this character intersected with _his_ character.

Some actors were more amenable to this than others. Rainbow, for instance, when they’d first started hadn’t had much time for this, despite his dad being in the business.  And though he’d got a little better later on, it hadn’t really bothered David that there’d be no meeting of the minds, here – not like there was that much vital interaction between the two during that first season in any case.

No, he’d needed to connect that way with Torri – and Joe – and luckily he had done – with both of them.

Paul? Oh he sorted out shit with Paul over an easy Sunday pint.

Paul was not and never had been any trouble.

Torri, too, was easy.

They’d worked together years back and had an easy friendship.

Joe, on the other hand...

It wasn’t that Joe spoke a different _language_ ; he just seemed to have a different approach to their craft.

David had joked with the others (not meanly, never that) how he hadn’t until then been aware there was an American School for The thespian Arts as opposed to the Canadian School of Practical and Pragmatic Acting.

He hadn’t mentioned any names, but there wasn’t a Canadian there in the bar that evening who hadn’t known exactly who he wasn’t mentioning by name.

Everyone – most everyone – liked Joe, yet there was without question an unspoken (but ever present ‘divide’) wrought almost exclusively by the things poor Joe simply had no means to effect.

Amanda constantly referred to the thing with Richard and how, try as they might, the fact of his nationality seemed to be the elephant that just simply refused to leave the room, even a decade later.

Thing was he didn’t think Joe felt out of place at all; he mostly seemed to _enjoy_ being mixed in with a bunch of Canadians.

No, it was the Canadians who seemed unable to forget his utter American-ess.

It was worse, of course, when you’d find yourself forgetting for ages at a time until something he did brought it forcefully back to mind.

David had found himself (almost inevitably) on more occasions than he cared to remember, even 4 years into the series, drawn into ironic discussions with Amanda and Torri about what it was like to play American.

It was a discussion, the contents of which he’d promised (beforehand), to take to his grave, and so he would.

They did eventfully agree (at the end of any such discussion) that Americans were alright, just so long as they resisted the urge to throw their weight around.

And it wasn’t like Joe was guilty of this – not overtly.

But then, though it had taken David a little while to work it out, Joe was a _sly_ son-of-a-bitch.

 

**

 

“You think he’d do that, really?”  They were drinking in Joe’s trailer, the script for Hide and Seek finger marked, a little dog eared in front of each man.

David frowned, somewhat surprised at the direction the conversation had already taken. “You don’t? You honestly think he’d baulk at the prospect of shooting McKay in the leg?”

Joe made a face, taking a good sip of whisky. “Well, they’ve known each other, what, a few days? Why would he just go along with that? He’s a guy who’s had black marks galore, killed his C.O, woken up the Wraith. Wouldn’t he be extra cautious right now? What if the personal shield hadn’t worked? How would he explain it?”

And David had thought _he_ overanalysed shit. “Joe, I don’t know. I think it’s one of those – if it’s in the script then just go with it moments.”

“Nah, just doesn’t seem to fit Sheppard’s character.”

“You think it fits McKay’s, that he’d get Sheppard to shoot him in the leg, push him off balconies?”

“I get to push him off _balconies_?” Joe was leafing hastily through the script, but David had learned to read his tone and facial expression so merely rolled his eyes.

“Okay one, _one_ balcony. But seriously, since we’re on the subject, you think that’s McKay’s style?”

Joe shrugged again. “Don’t know him that well – yet – but not really, no.”

“So,” David began.

“They screwed up,” Joe finished.

David sighed, hoping this wouldn’t become a problem – not the writers screwing up, just Joe niggling and second guessing every little thing. At this rate they wouldn’t get anything done. You had to learn – when you were bringing someone else’s vision to the screen - to accept that, for now, you weren’t an artiste, a writer yourself, but a mouthpiece, whose only job was to say the words in front of him, follow the directions he’d been given.

It was already clear Joe wasn’t going to find this easy to do.

David found himself idly wondering if he’d been like that back in LA or if he felt he could throw his weight around a bit now he was up North with the nice Canadians.

“Still, what you gonna do?” It was a rhetorical question, obviously, but one he could see Joe would answer if given the opportunity.

David denied him the opportunity by asking if he was absolutely sure he didn’t want to come to that hockey game next weekend, knowing as he did by now that Joe would be unable to resist mocking, making unfavourable comparisons to proper sport.

Thus was he able to dodge that bullet that day.

But Joe has the memory of an elephant and the stubbornness of a fucking mule.

David would eventually come to accept that no script could possibly be allowed to stand without the Flanigan Check for Authenticity and Adherence to Character ‘Truths’.

It would be some time before he’d start to recognise how he too had seamlessly adopted said check whenever he got a script.

It would take a little less time to realise that Joe, as well as being a sly bastard, was also a bad, really bad influence – in his own sweet Flanigan way, of course.


End file.
